This is the home of your average girl in her early 30s making her way in the big city...Not really. I have thoughts. Now I have somewhere to put them.

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

I am a runner

So I ran four to five times a week for six months. (I just had to double check that count using my fingers because OMG I couldn’t believe I exercised that much and that consistently). I ran a half marathon. I ran hills and distance and did speed work. But, that is not what makes me a runner.

I am a runner because high on my list of things I MUST do while on vacation in New York City for four days was run in Central Park. I did. I started my 30s by running up the Upper West Side to Central Park and then running around the Central Park reservoir - I believe it’s kind of like Mecca for runners in Manhattan. And I couldn’t think of a better way to start my birthday

I am a runner because I woke up at 8 a.m. on a Saturday to go watch others run in the Canadian national 10k championship and this past Sunday I devoted two hours of my lazy afternoon not to Project Runway or Tori and Dean, but to watching NBC’s entire two hours of the New York City Marathon. And it was awesome.

I am a runner because for the past two weeks I have been going through withdrawal from not being able to run. As I drove home and watched people trotting along through the ambers and golds of fallen leaves I wanted nothing more than to rush home, change into my clothes and get in some kilometres before the light faded into dusk.

But, I can’t. I’m injured. I felt a twinge in my right hip starting in August (maybe late July) and I ignored it because I was afraid I would be told to stop running until it healed and I didn’t want to miss training or not be ready for the race. It didn’t hurt that badly and only when I stretched, I could suck it up. And so I did and I gave myself a break after the half to let myself heal. I ran the next weekend and it kinda hurt, I ran in NYC and it was sore and then I ran after watching the 10k and it really hurt so I made myself a doctor’s appointment and started physio. I’m likely sitting out the next week or two and I’m getting antsy. And despite the training log I have of proof of the craziness that was my half marathon training I am surprised.

While I secretly hoped the being active thing would stick. That the running thing would keep my interest I knew better. I’m the girl who did belly dancing for 10 weeks, rowing for one summer, soccer for four months and I thoroughly enjoyed those activities (well, the last two anyway), but I never took up with them again. I never missed them when they were over. But, I really, really miss lacing up my shoes, putting on my earphones and heading out for four to six kilometres of sweating, panting and pushing my muscles. And that’s how I know: I am a runner.